A Spark To A Flame
by thegirlwhoburned
Summary: AU! Madge Undersee was just a girl he handed margaritas when they were children. A girl who was his best friend, the one he could hold onto when his world seemed to shatter. She is no longer just Madge Undersee: she's the mockingjay. Gadge. Everlark. Odesta.
1. Chapter 1

**Spark To A Flame**

_Chapter One – The Reaping._

It happened when I was sixteen.

Back then I was only a girl from the Seam, who was full of innocence, love for her family and loyalty to her friends. _Nothing special_, the people from the town said, _just another scum from the district's poorest place._

My name was Margaret Undersee. My best friend was the one who started to call me Madge at the very beginning of our friendship, I was not sure if he either found it too serious or just wanted to cheer me up with his little stupid things, like he always did when I was upset. At least this was the proof of him being a normal guy before everything turned to Hell.

I remembered the first time we met. I was clinging to my father's - who was trying to calm my nerves by whispering soothing words to me, stroking through my unusual blonde curls – leg due to my shyness. After he finally managed to talk me into sitting down, a grey eyed boy approached me. He said nothing but handed me a bunch of the most beautiful margaritas I had ever seen and asked me if I wanted to play with him. No one ever wanted to play hide and seek with me, so I obviously said yes. Although it sounded kind of weird, no one could separate us for the rest of the night.

Gale Hawthorne and I spent every free moment of our childhood together. We took walks in the forest, having fun, sometimes even hunting. Both of us knew it was forbidden, but our parents did not earn enough money to prevent the starvation of our families. He taught me – getting the knowledge from his father – how to use bows, using knives and in return I showed him how to cook the rabbits we brought home. It fascinated me much he respected those creature; he always spoke to them until they died.

Our new hobby helped us get to know each other which was a really great thing, considering that I had no other friends but him.

Sometimes I ate my lunch with Katniss Everdeen in the cafeteria of the school, but this habit changed when she won – she was the first woman victor of our district - the 72th annual Hunger Games. The brunette had to rebuild her new life in the Victor's Village and she did not seem to belong to us, never really searched for our company anymore. In the end Katniss killed three people; understandable she was scared of the thought of making friends again.

No matter how many time we invited someone to join us, it turned out Gale and I yet again, against the world. I never minded.

He was the perfect best friend; was there for me when my mother died, holding me in his arms, stroking my back while I cried my eyes out. Did not matter he was only thirteen, I believed he could protect me. I thanked him for taking such good care of me, in return he just shrugged and said "We are best friends".

His father died in the same year. He took the responsibility of being the oldest man in their family more serious. I of course supported him, but was also very worrying about him.

"I know how you feel," I whispered into his ear, hugging him close against my body while I stroked his back. As soon as his mother told him the news, Gale ran off. I was the one who found him past midnight, under the same tree we used to have picnics. For a while I said nothing, listening to his shaking breaths. All of sudden I bent forward to whisper into his ear. "You are not alone, Gale. You'll never be alone with this."

"I hate my life," he growled through his gritted teeth, his head buried in a crook of my neck. "Everything seems to be confusing… My father…"

"Shhh."

"Fucking Capitol!" He nearly shouted. I did not startle, he was not angry with me. He pulled away, pure hatred glowing in his grey orbs. "It's their fault! Everything is their fault!"

"Gale," I protested, cupping his cheeks to force him to look at me. My blue eyes collided with his grey ones, his sorrow washing me over. "I know you are angry and I understand it. God, you have no idea how much I do, but it doesn't solve anything right now, only causes problems to you and your family."

"I don't care!" He did. Gale Hawthorne loved his family more than anything else in the world. "Go away!"

"You won't scare me away," I shook my head stubbornly. "I'm your best friend."

Gale watched me with an intense stare – I stood it without blinking, refusing to leave him dealing with his sorrow alone -, suddenly letting his own pride fade away, showing me the boy behind his forced passive aggressive mask.

A single teardrop rolled down on his cheek, reaching his lips. He licked them, my eyes followed its way for a brief second. "I miss him."

"You always will," I kissed his forehead gently, in hope my closeness comforted him. "It will never be easier… That invisible hole in your chest will always be there. I can only promise you that it gets better."

"What if I forget him?"

I had the same fear when my mother died. I was afraid of letting our happy memories fade away, forgetting all those beautiful moment we shared – the songs she singed to me, sitting on my bed next to me. The way she could play the piano, angels moved her fingers. Her beautiful smile or her golden strands… I could only hope.

"The ones we love never leave us," I explained. "They are all here." I touched the spot where his heart was thumping. "My mother and your dad are probably watching both of us right now, wondering why we are crying."

"You think so?"

I nodded. "They've found peace, Gale. Wherever they are now it's better than Panem."

He snorted but the way he looked at me completely changed. "Shit speech, Undersee. I never believed in Heaven."

"You may think so at the moment," I lanced filled the holes between his fingers with mine ones. "But I know you are different."

He placed his right hand behind my ear, getting lost in my wet gaze. We communicated without talking, an advantage of being hunting partners for more than two years. "Whatever."

I smiled weakly. "Okay."

"Thank you," he murmured as I wiped the wet spot under his eyes.

I squeezed his hand, replying the same thing he did when my mother died. "We are best friends."

"Always," said Gale.

* * *

**Two years later.**

Reaping day.

Two more years left to me and Gale without peace. This levitated in front of my eyes as I woke up that day, watching the ceiling for a whole hour. I hated to admit I was frightened to death. However, I was.

Gale's family – including him – joined us the way towards the town. He took my hand into his, caressing the back of it as he explained why his whole family behaves like a mess. "It's Posy's first reaping."

"How is she?" I murmured, my life never leaving the back of the boy.

"Better than I."

"She never took out tesserae, right?"

"No," he whispered, squeezing my hand. "I feel like an animal. Every people in Panem are animals."

I sighed. "Posy will be alright. I doubt she will be reaped."

"Hope so."

My legs were shaking by tenseness, while two sentences kept on echoing in my head.

Twenty-four tributes.

Only one victor.

They were disgusting.

I hated every part of the Capitol, completely agreeing with Gale whenever he told me they were treating us as animals. He was right, because they truly did; most of them enjoyed watching children killing each other in order to survive.

Once my father said in this game no one could won, since if a tribute did manage to murderer everyone, the person will become a puppet of President Snow or – I'm not sure if it was worse – lost their sanity.

"No matter what happens," he told me before we went to bed the day after the reaping. "The Capitol will never get what they want. People are only bow to them to protect their families. One day, in which Panem will be ready to fight for freedom again, they will take the right stand. In case of a rebellion, they will avenge their losses."

"You think so?"

Dad nodded. "We are all the same. Pent up passion creates the greatest wars, little Madge. I think you are old enough to understand this."

"Sometimes I doubt I will ever do," I murmured barely audible, heaved a deep sigh to continue it in the same tone. "Why do they have to kill innocent children? Seeing us dying makes them feel entertained?"

"Because they already lost what you will own forever," he said. "They are no longer humans, nor everything you can think of."

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Machines, I guess. Living robots, I mean. Laughing messes, controlled by a higher being. They think Snow is the God, refusing to believe anything else."

"Why are you telling me this, dad?"

"I've never thought you are ready for a conversation like this," he replied, much to my dismay. He glanced down at the glass he was holding, raising it to take a sip. "I watched you coming home from hunting, interacting with the Hawthorne boy and becoming a strong, independent woman. I've never realized how much you have grown and that you are no longer the baby angel who never dared to let go of my leg."

"Dad…"

"I made too many mistakes." His hand found mine. "I was too occupied by your mother's sickness that I've never really paid attention to you."

"It's not your fault. You are a great father, daddy." I sighed. "Circumstances form us, not the opposite. I love you."

I closed my eyes as he stood up and kissed my forehead. I was not getting used to of a gesture like this, but at the same time warmth spread in my chest. "I love you too, angel."

"It's time to go to bed," I settled on saying. "Tomorrow's an important day. Good night, daddy."

"Good night, Madge."

…and suddenly someone snapped me out of the shell of my daydream. I found myself there, checking in. Delly Cartwright stood next to me, babbling about something I was not interested in, but was too polite to tell her.

"Two more years," Delly reminded me – or herself? - as we headed towards the section of sixteen years old girls. I saw so many familiar faces, my heart clenched. Posy, Gale's little sister was already twelve, so her name also could be chosen. What would the girl do in the arena? This thought made my stomach sink. "Two more years and it is over…"

"How many entries have you got?" I asked absently, fixing the edge of my skirt. I never told anyone, but I hated wearing them.

Delilah bit her lower lip. "Three. Why?" My mouth curled up in a bitterly way as she blushed, realizing the sense of my question. Why was she worrying anyway? Having three entries was not a big deal; I already had ten when I was just thirteen. "You have a lot, right?"

"Too much, I forgot to count." She stared at me, eyes widened. "Twenty four, I think."

When my father had to work until late at night Gale and I could not go hunting, but since my mother was seriously sick I had to find a way to give her something to eatable. The situation forced me to take out tesserae. My dad was furious – oh, you have no idea -, he only spoke to me if it was necessary. In the end, my mom survived the week and that was the only thing which mattered to me.

Delly Cartwright cleared her throat to get my attention. My head jerked toward her direction, just in time to notice the guilty in her orbs. "Madge-"

"Whatever."

I gave Gale - who furrowed his bows and was watching me the whole time through - a look from aside. He did not return my smile, was too nervous; from time to time his eyes drifted from me to Rory, his expression so messed up I could not recognize what he was probably thinking. His family meant everything to him. Don't let it be Posy, Gale, Rory or Vick.

"Don't worry," I mouthed to him even though I was afraid too. "It will be okay."

He nodded slowly, whispering Thank you. His friend from the school touched his shoulder as I heard Delly giggling next to me. "Look at that!"

I raised an eyebrow at the place where Effie Trinket appeared – excited to send two children to die as always – in a usual pink Capitol dress. Behind her a very drunken Haymitch Abernathy – I remembered him, my mother used to tell me stories about him, my aunt and the Second Quartel Quell – stood, with Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark by his side.

My gaze drifted from Haymitch to the blonde man. Peeta Mellark won the 71th annual Hunger Games, being the only victor who only killed one person. We met a few times when we were children. He accepted the role of mentoring next year, much to the Capitol's joy. This time he will get the girl, while Katniss the boys.

"Ladies first!" I swallowed hard as Effie searched in the bow. I closed my eyes tightly, having the urge to throw up growing inside of my stomach. My lunch intended to leave its place, the tension unbearable. _Jesus_, I prayed,_ don't let it be anyone I love_. _Not Gale._ _Or Posy. Rory. Vick. Delly_. "Margaret Undersee!"

My eyes shot open in shock.

The strong pounding in my chest kept me moving forward, I refuse to make any eye contact. I was chosen. I was reaped.

Adrenaline surged through me.

I folded my arms in front of my chest to hold back my shaking. I had to look strong; breaking down would not help if I wanted to get sponsors. Because I did, right? I intended to come home, to survive. My father needed me.

As I reached the stage my eyes accidently met Gale's painful ones. I wanted to smile at him, telling him that everything will be fine, but I know he would notice it was an act; Gale Hawthorne hated being lied to. Despite of this I was aware I will never tell him how terrified I was.

Effie flashed a smirk at me as she searched in the boy's bowl again, fishing a paper out of it. "Isaac La'Front!"

The crowd heaved another shocked sigh as I watched him approaching me. I had seen him before; he was also from the Seam, his mother gave me his sister's old clothes when I was younger. Although we often met after school we never really spoke more than two sentences. Isaac La'Front had sandy blonde hair which almost covered his dark brown eyes.

Compared to me he was a giant.

Effie cheered in her stupid Capitol accent. "Tributes shake hands!"

I accepted the hand Isaac extended, shaking it weakly.

"Happy Hunger Games," Effie began, not even surprised that no one clapped with her. "May the odds be ever in your favor!"

I frowned. Why could not I just wake up?

* * *

**A/N: Hello guys! I'm really excited, because this is my first Gadge fanfic. I wonder if you like it, because I worked a lot with this chapter. **

**Timeline to help you, I know it's confusing:**

**It's the 74th Hunger Games. ****Peeta won the 71th Hunger Games - 19 years old now. ****Katniss won the 72th Hunger Games - 17 years old now. ****Gale's 18 years old now, Madge turns 17 soon. ****Posy's twelve. Vick's thirteen and Rory's fifteen.**

**Woooh, I'm excited! Thanks for reading.:)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A Spark To A Flame**

_Chapter Two - Saying Goodbye_

_Margaret Undersee. _A name.

Who is she? A daughter. A best friend and….

…a tribute.

A soft throat clearing interrupted my thoughts. By hearing the person's approaching footsteps I could tell he came closer and immediately turned towards his direction. Tears welled in my eyes as I ran into my father's embrace. At that moment I was just a little girl, searching for a shelter.

Without saying a word for the first one minute – we had three -, he just wrapped his arms around my back, pulling me more closely. The gentle way he stroked through my hair created a lump in my throat – I refused to cry in front of anyone although I knew it would disappear if I let it out –, making it hard to swallow. With my whole inside aching for peace, I inhaled his scent.

He cupped my face, forcing me to look into his emerald green eyes. "You are capable of everything you can imagine."

I sighed. "Daddy."

"I'm very proud of you, Madge," he whispered, his voice cracking. All my life my father had never let me see his weak side, he stayed strong whenever we went through hard times, but at that moment – even if he tried to look strong and unbreakable – I had seen his true self. He was terrified of losing his only daughter, the most important person in his life. "No matter what happens, remember you are the greatest daughter a parent can ask for."

"I know," I murmured barely audible, pressing a soft kiss against his cheek. My vision was blurred by my tears, but I still noticed the red rims under his eyes. A proud man. A strong one. My father. "And I will always be your girl, Daddy."

He brushed a few strands behind my ear – his hands were shaking -, sucking on his bottom lip. "I love so much, little bird."

He used to call me little bird as a nickname to show me I was still his daughter. I will _always_ be _his_ daughter. "I love you too."

He dropped his hands from my face, searching for something in his pocket. I frowned at him, did not understand why he was doing it, because we did not have much time. "Before your mother died… She asked me one thing."

I heaved a deep breath, desperately trying to skip the subject. Talking about mother would only push me further into the agony. "What?"

"It was your aunt's," he explained as he handed me something, his fingers lightly brushing my palm. "Maysilee Donner was your mother's sister. I'm not sure she talked to you about her at all, because she really loved her and her death crushed her."

I nodded weakly. I knew mother had a sister – obviously named Maysilee – who died in the arena before I even existed. They said I get my blonde hair from her, Hazelle Hawthorne often said I was looking like her. "She did."

"She died in the 50th Quartel Quell," father said and I studied the pin. A _mockingjay_ pin. It shone proudly – almost golden-like –, and the whole thing radiated hope. The fact that the Capitol will not appreciate my token was clear – since they hated everything which was above them -, but I was sure I will never take it off. For the memory of the Donner sisters, I was going to wear it. For my mother's smile. For those beautiful stories she used to tell me. For the wonderful moments we shared. For Aunt Maysilee, the woman I never got the chance to meet. My stomach sank, remembering mom telling me I looked like her sister. I did not dare to think of how much it must had hurt her, knowing I was a small copy of a person she loved so much, the one she lost years ago. "Your mother asked me to give it to you when the right time comes. When you are ready and she can't be with you."

I let out a shaking breath, and with a low 'Thank you'. I hugged him once more. My arms linked tightly behind her neck. "Take care, Daddy."

"Always be yourself," he sounded as if he was praying to me, his hold on me became stronger. My heart broke when the door opened again and a peacekeeper appeared behind my father, ready to take me away from him. "Remember where you came from. Where you are belong to."

"I do. I will," I promised. "I love you!"

"I love you too, Madgie." His lips curled up slightly, too painfully to be a real smile. "Always and forever, birdie."

When the door opened again I found myself wishing I could disappear under ground and never come back. Gale's eyes immediately found mine and for a few moments he did nothing, just staring at me. He did not have to say anything, I was already aware of what he intended to tell me. To fight. To come back. To _beat_ them.

"The odds were definitely not in my favor," I croaked, my forced smile failed. "I had many entries. You'd think I expected it."

"Madge," he extended his hand slowly, waiting for me to accept it. I did, allowing his rough skin caressing mine. "You can do this. I believe you can. You are stronger than them…"

"Gale."

"You have great skills. You are even better than me… Find arrows and bows, concentrate…"

"Gale," I walked over him, my moves seemed to be to rushed to my taste. "Take care of my father, will you?"

"I will," he entwined our fingers. "You have to come back."

"I'm not skilled enough to kill three other tributes. Especially the careers and… Isaac."

"Don't talk like this," he warned me in a sharp tone, full of pent up hatred and passion. I knew he did not mean to speak to me this way, but his intense hate towards the Capitol and the situation we were forced into came out the way it did: arrogance. We had been best friends since I was little child, his – sometimes – hotheaded behavior never really reached the edge of my patience, especially not to piss me off. Spending years together formed me enough to learn how to handle him. To be honest, I eased his fire within. "Don't you dare to say goodbye to me! You are _not_ going to die."

"I told you I will try to come home," I said carefully, my right hand caressed his cheek. He closed his eyes, leaning into my grasp.

"I need you, Madge," he admitted barely audible, much to my surprise. After his father died Gale avoided every possible contact or conversation which included more emotion that the ominous Capitol-dislike. Perhaps he tried to seem as unbreakable as his father was and as the time passed his attempts changed him too much his family and I were the only ones who could see the boy with the flowers behind his act. _My_ boy with the flowers.

My head moved before I actually realized I nodded. "I know."

"Time's up," the Peacekeeper told us as he tried to drag Gale out of the room. My best friend watched me and I also could not take my eyes off him. Until I faced the door again I refused to let my tears fall. He needed to memorize a piece of the girl I was which he could remember peacefully after I die.

* * *

Isaac did not say anything as we entered the car, but I caught his gaze from time to time.

We spent the way towards the train station quietly and I was glad he decided to leave me alone. The last thing I wanted from him was him trying to be nice to me. Even if one of us will win, the other one will die within two weeks. Making friendships just because we grew up in the same district did not seem to be right.

I refused to think about how slim our chances were considering that - despite Haymitch, Peeta and Katniss - our district did not used to be a typical winner one. However, a little spark still kept hope in me, telling me not to give up. It made my inside stir, the danger of me throwing up appeared in my stomach.

Despite of our silence Effie talked. Oh yes, she did. "The Capitol's lovely, I'm sure you can't wait to see it! Oh and the train! It's wonderful and so quick! You'll love it! You and your parents must be so proud of you!"

"Wave!" Effie demanded as we finally got out of the car. The cameras were following us – taking thousands of pictures – and I knew they wanted us to act as if we were all happy to get a chance for a _better_ life. I just could not be happy of dying. "Smile and wave! It's a beautiful day!"

I managed to raise my hand, waving miserably. I was glad it took us only a couple of minutes to reach the train and Isaac closed the huge metal door behind us. Effie did not stop his ranting tirade, her annoying accent ringed even more joyful in my ears. "I show you your rooms now, and then you can meet your mentors! You must be very excited! Peeta and Katniss can't wait to see you!"

"Deadly excited," I murmured sarcastically, pressing my lips hard together to prevent myself from saying something rude.

Pretending she heard nothing, Effie pointed at the door in front of her. "Margaret, this is your room!"

"Thank you." Not waiting to waist any more second I entered the room and as soon as Effie finished her lecturing about manners I stepped into the bathroom.

As I faced myself in front of the mirror - fighting against the urge to scream -, I traced my features with my fingers as if I want to remember every little detail of the girl I used to be. _The_ Madge I had known was a huntress, daughter of Daphne and Leopold Undersee. A girl who instead of blood had fire in her veins, an untold desire to change the world someday. How will people remember this girl when she has to kill someone and completely loses herself? The innocence she carried will fade away, the blue dress she was wearing that night – the one she met her best friend – will not be enough to hide her anymore. That blonde five-years-old girl with margaritas will die the moment she lets the Capitol cage her.

As weird as it sounded I felt like a broken-winged bird, unable to fly. Poor. Weak. Nothingness.

* * *

"Margaret," Effie was the one who firstly spoke up when I approach the kitchen table. "We are so pleased you joined us!"

"Thank you," I forced out. The only empty chair was placed next to Isaac and although I tried to avoid him as much as possible I sat down next to him. I grabbed the fork, aching for food.

"So," Isaac's voice broke the awkward silence that had fallen into the room, creating a lump in my throat. "You are going to be our mentors. What should we know?"

Katniss and Peeta exchanged a look, – I guess – searching for words. By the way Peeta answered the question I could tell they were waiting for this. "Margaret is my tribute, you are Katniss'. At first I think we should try to work on how to get you sponsors."

I raised an eyebrow at him. "And how?"

Peeta cleared his throat. "Skills. You should tell us what you are good at."

Katniss heaved a sigh and – I doubt Isaac noticed – I saw Peeta's hand moving. He grabbed her hand under the table.

* * *

**A/N: Here I am. I'm glad you liked the first chapter, you gave me inspiration. Any special wishes for the next chapter?**

**By the way: you asked for more Peeta/Katniss moments as mentors. You will get more, I'm sure. ;) A girl send me a PM, she asked if there will be something between Isaac and Madge. I can only tell I'm a gadge shipper, but it doesn't mean anything right now. **

**Will you leave me reviews this time, too? Xoxo**


	3. Bonus Chapter

**********Thank you for the reviews, sweethearts! Merry Christmas! This is my gift to you. You were really interested in Everlark, so I hope you will like this. It's a bonus chapter.;)**

* * *

**A Spark To A Flame**

_Bonus Chapter - This is the place where I love you._

Peeta's POV.

The perfect act included a forced smile, happy weaving and - only if you are very good – sending kisses. The crowd is screaming your name, billions of girls - sometimes boys as well – begging for your attention as if you are the eighth wonder or better. As the years are passing, you learn how to hide the signs of your damaged soul and do your best in being completely brainless.

The first step is easy. At first, they only buy you – make sure you are good and they will pay more and more - , invite you for fancy dinners, spending time with you while telling you how much they were rooting for you. You thank them – because this is why you are there, to _thank _them -, all shy and touchable. You immediately find yourself in their grasp.

The second step is that in hope it will prevent your loved ones from getting Reaped or killed, you agree on doing whatever they please. You are willingly take off some clothes, showing them some skin which is exactly what they are craving for. The younger, the better. No matter how old you are, the best is who gets the fresh meat sooner than the other, so the excuse that you are only sixteen doesn't help. You can't complain, they aren't expecting you to think anyway.

The third step is when you are accepting you have to do it regularly and the fact that you – as most of the others – are _used_. You never get back the time you wasted, for the rest of your life you will remember them. Full of ridiculous tattoos, makeup covering even their ugly faces.

From the view of a normal person winning the Hunger Games meant the end of starvation, fame and glory. You don't have to worry for not having enough money for food in the end of the month; the Capitol makes sure you enjoy your well-deserved better life with disgusting clothes in an awfully designed house. Everything seems to be so nice, but you only realize what you've gotten yourself into when the truth lightens the way, the chance of turning back already disappeared and – since you are aware of the danger – arguing was never an option.

I was too young, too naive to think they will get bored of me and let me get some privacy, perhaps with a girl I will fall in love with.

"Try to enjoy it," Haymitch often said. "Will hurt less."

However, he was not right.

As much as I tried to enjoy it – _doing_ them until they couldn't breathe – it always hurt. I hated reminding myself the thing I had to do, but I couldn't control my mind. Those nights were always replayed mixing with nightmares while I slept, their joyful voice echoing in my head. It was that kind of dirt I could never wash off. I believed my life was ruined.

When I was at the edge of giving up everything, _the girl_ stepped into my life and it squeezed the rest of power of will out of me. Katniss Everdeen being my biggest weakness in my case never helped, just formed the vulnerable point inside of me. _Crap._

President Snow got another way to hurt me by letting her win the Games and I knew he was doing it on purpose. His hold on me changed, instead of my throat, he grabbed my heart and was ready to rip it out whenever he intended. I was completely his.

My name was Peeta Mellark, winner of the 71th Annual Hunger Games. I was sixteen when President Snow started to sell my body and seventeen when Katniss Everdeen was announced as the winner of the 72nd. Annual Hunger Games, soon after tried to kill herself. I saved her, promising I will always be there to protect her against the _demons_ in her head, but instead of doing so; I let them catch me...

* * *

"Peeta," I heard her knocking on my door a few hours before the Reaping. Like last time, she was terrified, mostly because Primrose Everdeen – her sister – still could be Reaped and that – because Haymitch could hardly stay away from the bourbon bottle – we had to take mentoring position this year. I got the girl which surprised me, considering that I believed President Snow wanted to make me busy again. Perhaps he thought I can handle two things at the same time. "Peeta?"

"Come in," I invited her in, wondering why she could not give up this weird habit. I told her many times that she can come in without knocking, but she never listened. "Are you okay?"

"Mhm," she murmured barely audible, settling down on the couch next to me.

I nodded, glancing at her from the corner of my eyes. "Great."

However I know she was not _okay_. Everyone around her was aware of the fact that Katniss Everdeen will never be okay. Sometimes I began to hope that I somehow managed to help her getting a bit better, but it soon faded away as I noticed the look in her grey orbs. I talked to Prim after the 73rd Victory Tour ended; she told me that she often found her staring into nowhere.

They told me lot of stories about crazy victors, Finnick said she was not the only one and that it never gets easier, just calmer. Although Annie Cresta was not that bad – she did not tried to kill herself like Katniss did -, I know that his advices will help and he was speaking of true experiences.

She interrupted me by touching my forearm. "Peeta?"

"Yes?"

"I'm afraid," she admitted, sighing heavily as she pressed her forehead against my shoulder. "I don't want to go back."

"Neither do I," I whispered soothingly. "We have to, though."

"I don't," she suddenly began to sob. "Please Peeta, don't make me!"

"Katniss…"

"I don't…"

I cupped her cheeks, forcing her to glance at me. "You don't have to be afraid. I'll be there, right beside you."

Katniss sucked her lower lip as I stroked over her back. "You'll be busy… and what if… Prim…"

"She has two entries," I sighed. "The chances are slim and I promised you something. _Can_ you believe me?"

She exhaled deeply, suddenly staring at the ground. She stopped blinking for a couple of minutes, tears kept on rolling down on her cheeks. She had _those_ moments where she fall into her own world, can't sense the difference between reality and the things her mind flashed before her eyes. I swallowed. "Katniss."

"The mockingjays," she mumbled, her voice cracking. I listened closely. She usually talked about things that either did not make sense or fit in the situation. "They… stop… singing… when I'm… around… I-I-I…"

"Not true." I shook my head. "Katniss."

"I hear them screaming," the girl whimpered. "Faceless. I don't s-s-see their… f-f-faces."

I pulled a few strands out of her face. "Remember when you were singing to Rue? They all stopped just to listen to you. They weren't screaming, remember?"

"They w-w-weren't."

"Right," I agreed. "Remember the song?"

"I d-do."

"Help me then," I breathed into her skin as I kissed her forehead, "because I forgot. Deep in the meadow, under the… pillow?"

"Willow," she corrected me, seemed like she did not noticed that I made a mistake on purpose. "A b-b-bed of grass, a soft green… p-p-pillow."

"Go on."

"Lay down… your head, and close your s-s-sleepy eyes…" I caressed the soft skin of her neck. She enjoyed it, the way her lips curled up broke my heart. "And when again they open, the sun will r-rise. Here it's safe, here it's warm… Here the daisies guard you from every h-harm."

"Here your dreams are sweet," I tried miserably," and tomorrow brings them to you…"

"No, it doesn't make sense. Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true. Here is the place where I love you."

"Here is the place where I love you," I repeated. "Mockingjays never stopped singing for you."

"I bet mockingjays are singing for you today," she assured me sweetly, her eyes were distant but shinny.

* * *

**A/N: What do you think?:) **


	4. Chapter 3

**A Spark To The Flame**

_Chapter Three - Self Harm_

The girl from District One stood proudly on the stage, waving and smiling happily. She reminded me a porcelain doll, considering that the skin of her face, which was framed by perfect long curls, looked so untouchable, so innocent. Even I could tell she was beautiful, I had no intention denying it and perhaps this was the reason why I wasn't able to take my eyes off her. Someone who with her beauty had so many ways before her how could volunteer for a game which probably meant the end of her life? Peeta said she was probably a trained killer, just like the others from her district, and they were usually taught to forget their fears. Still, to me her decision was too irrational.

Her name flashed on the screen - making Isaac suppress his laugh which I tried to ignore -, and I frowned at the weird name. Lethal Evans.

"She must be dangerous," Isaac commented, glancing at Peeta for confirmation. I wondered why Katniss – who was sitting closely next to Peeta – never talked to Isaac. However, I caught her staring at him from time to time. I guessed they were forced her to accept the mentoring role, because by the way her grey eyes shone I could tell she was not completely sane. I doubt Isaac sensed the difference between the person he had to watch during the viewing and the one who nervously chewed on her lower lip just a few inches away from us, since I was the one who used to sit with Katniss during lunch break. "She looks like she can kill with her pinky finger. Still, her name's ridiculous. Lethal? Seriously?"

"I don't think her name is that important," I snapped at him, not completely on purpose. It annoyed me how carefree he could talk, even suppressing a laugh. I had a war inside of me, my thoughts never made sense and he was _okay_.

"I was just trying to break the silence," he shot back, shrugging as if he did not care at all. He arched one of his blonde bows. "You shouldn't take me head just because I don't like awkward moments."

"Sorry I haven't got the meaning," I said sharply, unconsciously licking my bottom lip. "I'm sorry I don't have a good mood."

"You can't be serious." He rolled his eyes.

"Would you guys stop?" Peeta raised his voice which was a great surprised. At first I thought he was mad at us because of our argument, but as my gaze met Katniss', it surprised me.

"Sorry," I murmured barely audible, brushing a few strands behind my ear. We startled Katniss – she murmured something which sounded like a song under her breath -, Peeta automatically tried to protect her.

The boy slowly appeared next to the girl, blonde haired with perfectly shaped white teeth. Creed.

Peeta cleared his throat to get our – mostly mine – attention. "They would be good to make ally with. Make sure you catch their eyes. If they find you good, they will protect you for a while."

I knew making allies was an important thing, meant safety and food, but something in me refused to accept the thought of joining them. Perhaps the way Creed's shirt showed his muscles or the sparkle in Lethal's eyes made me want to do otherwise. They were indeed killers, wouldn't hesitate to stab me in the back in the minute I turn around. No. Never. So when he turns to me, I only nod.

"You should be really careful with the tributes of District Two, too" he continued. Isaac shifted on his seat, his broad shoulder brushed against mine. "They are careers like the ones from One."

The girl from District Two did not smile just glared daggers at the crowd. Her name was Ilyon, probably in my age with short dark red hair and brown eyes. She either was not a great actress or she tried to scare the other tributes. _Us_.

The boy was charming – no, I did not find him as handsome as the cheering ladies -, he even blew some kisses toward the camera. With his incredible blue orbs and short brown hair I was sure he already got sponsors. Ashton.

The other tributes were usual. Two twelve years old were Reaped, a girl from District Five – her name was Lia as far as I could remember – and another one from District Eight. Katniss whimpered something into Peeta's ear and I tried not to listen. I blamed my hunting ears for still hearing a few words. The girl from District Six sobbed while a boy from District Seven collapsed.

When they showed us I covered my eyes with my palm, refusing to look at the screen. As much as I tried to ignore it, I wasn't capable of completely ignoring it. The voice of the commentators broke through the shell of ignorance.

"The girl is interesting," a man said in a cheery tone. "I'm wondering if she will give Peeta Mellark a headache."

I snorted.

"The boy is handsome." I heard Isaac snickering next to me. "Hundred percent sure we will hear of them later."

"Aren't they lovely," Isaac commented sarcastically. "_We will hear of them later_. Gross."

Much to my surprise I completely agreed with him. They were all acting a fool game, like puppets in a show. They were exactly like that and President Snow controlled them.

"I go to sleep," I said before Peeta was able to reply anything. "If it's okay. I'm tired."

"Sure." My mentor nodded, out of the corner of my eyes Isaac wrinkled his nose. Before I could scold myself for giving him too much attention – I doubt he noticed but it annoyed me – Peeta spoke up. "Can you find the way to your room alone?"

"Aha." I was wondering what to say, a goodnight did not fit in the situation especially when it came to Isaac. I knew he will have a sleepless night, like me. So when I stood up, I nod my head and mumbled "'Night".

"Good night."

I left the room as fast as I could. I needed to think, my head was throbbing by all those horrible thoughts which were haunted me during the day. I couldn't believe the Reaping happened hours ago, it felt like I was numb the whole time through, watching my faith getting out of my hands.

I stroked over the mockingjay pin on my dress. I had to survive, I promised.

* * *

Tik. Tok. Tik. Tok.

I had no idea what time it was, probably too late to stay awake. I wished I could fall asleep, closing my eyes and letting the blackness wash me over, but I no longer could control my eyelids anymore. They kept my eyes opened, forcing me to watch the ceiling until I lost my sanity. The wheels in my brains turned all the time I replayed the day in my mind.

If I really concentrated I could feel Gale's hand in mine, searching for support in me. My father's soothing words after the Reaping echoed in my head as if he was talking to me. Although I wasn't wearing Aunt Maysilee's mockingjay pin in bed I could recognize its weight on my chest.

I was aware of the fact that what I was doing was completely stupid, I just loved to imagine everything was fine and I was just dreaming. The idea of waking up was too sweet to be real.

I sat up, looking the cup on the table next to my bed. I took it and disappointment suddenly hit me: it was empty and my throat was pleading for me to fill it with something. I rolled my eyes, making my way toward the door to carefully open it. I was not intended to wake anyone, considering I really wasn't able to talk.

I let out a relieved sigh as I opened a bottle of water – they really tasted good – and took a long sip. It tickled my throat, sending a shiver of pleasure down my spine. I exhaled a deep breath.

"Uh… Hello. Can't sleep?"

The moment she stepped into the room I recognized who she was, so when I turned around and noticed Katniss Everdeen, I wasn't surprised. "I was thirsty."

"Me too," Katniss said.

"Good." I sucked on my lower lip, couldn't bare the tension in the room. I narrowed my eyes as I caught the sign of her right arm. She immediately pulled away, but it was already too later. She was cutting herself; the wounds on her forearm seemed to be fresh. I shuddered. What happened to the girl I used to share my strawberries with? My heart clenched. "I… Good night."

"Sweet dreams, Madge." Her tone somehow made me feel even weirder, it was like she did not even talked to me. I sighed loudly as I leant against the door from inside, one of my hands resting on my chest. My father used to tell me about victors who could not take the weight of being a killer and tried to rescue by self-harm. I didn't know if she was doing it on purpose or because she was completely insane, but neither of these options sounded too promising…

* * *

"We are going to arrive soon," Peeta greeted me after I wished them good morning and sat down to eat my breakfast. I tried not to make eye contact with Katniss who sat on the seat in front of me. I fixed my gaze on my mentor, relieved that he was talking to me.

"And what will happen then?"

"You are going to meet your prep team," he informed me and handed me the salt I was looking for. I thanked him with a small smile. I wondered why Isaac's chair was empty next to mine. Effie Trinket and Haymitch – I couldn't forget the way he looked at me during the dinner last night – wasn't there neither. "The Opening Ceremony is important. They say the first appearance is the best way to catch the sponsor's eyes."

"I bet Cinna will make you look beautiful," Katniss said much to my embarrassment. She pointed at my pin. "Nice one. I like mockingjays."

Peeta and the brunette exchanged a look.

"T-Thank you," I murmured. Isaac entered the dining area, his expression no longer challenging but a bit confused. For the first time I found myself understanding him: my night was as horrible as his.

He cleared his throat as he took a seat. "Hello."

"Are you ready to face 'hem?" Peeta asked him, probably noticing his messy state.

He shrugged. "I don't have other choices."

Rubbing the back of my neck, I chose to stay out of this conversation. I tried to avoid him and Katniss as much as I could, because talking to them only caused trouble yet. However, when his brown gaze collided with my blue one, it was hard to keep myself from saying something. It was not that I liked him, because I didn't, but I could no longer ignore him. The chances of either of us winning were too slim, we were both aware of that.

I rolled my eyes as Effie joined us, babbling something about "Welcome to the Capitol". I furrowed my bows, jerking my head to look through the window. I ran a hand through my strands, holding back a groan.

We arrived.

* * *

**A/N: more info about the tributes in the next chapter! And oops, Katniss, what are you doing?**

**It's 2 am here - yeah, seriously, I stayed up to write this so forgive my grammar mistakes, I'm glad I'm awake.:D Thank you for the support, especially for EZ11! I really love you, guys. **

**If you have any questions or just would like to make me happy, please leave a review.**

**Thank you!**


	5. Author's note

Do you want me to continue this story?


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